


Flight Of The Black Swan

by klein_monsti



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Coda, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s15e17 Unity, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, open - yet hopeful - ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27391477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klein_monsti/pseuds/klein_monsti
Summary: Ever since finding out about Chuck, Dean had felt nothing but anger. He had questioned every choice, every feeling, because if it all came from Chuck, then it was all a lie. And whatever he and Castiel had between them it was just another plot point, meant to make Dean feel miserable. Or so Dean had thought. And then Chuck had raged about how all the other Castiels had stayed good little soldiers, all but this one.After Chuck's latest revelations Dean needs something, anything, that's real.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 115





	Flight Of The Black Swan

**Author's Note:**

> Stubbornly ignoring the promo for 15x18, stubbornly ignoring Castiel’s deal, stubbornly ignoring everything that isn’t Destiel being one of the pillars that supports the whole damn universe.
> 
> The term “Black Swan” is used for an unpredictable event that lies outside the realm of regular expectations, because nothing in the past can convincingly point to its possibility. It’s also characterized by its severe impact and consequences.
> 
> Castiel (and by extension Destiel) truly is the Black Swan of Supernatural, both within the narrative and on a meta level - that one thing that changed the show forever and that neither Chuck nor the writers could have fully predicted - and I have a lot of feelings about that.

Dean was bone-tired.

Diffusing a divine nuke inside of a half-angel kid in the last possible second would do that to you, he supposed. Or at least that was the most comfortable excuse Dean had at the moment. As soon as Jack and everyone else around him had been out of immediate danger Dean had run for the hills, or more accurately his bedroom. He just couldn’t face Sam right now; or Jack. Maybe the others knew it too because when the knock on his door eventually came, it was Cas who walked in a moment later. 

“Jack is stable.”, he told Dean from where he awkwardly stood halfway across the room. “We sent him to his room to rest for the time being while we figure out a new plan.”

Dean just nodded, he couldn’t bring himself to meet Castiel’s eyes, too afraid of the silent accusation he might find there. _Not to worry, Dean, we saved the kid from blowing himself up like you wanted him to._ Not that Dean wouldn’t deserve it.

Castiel however, clearly misinterpreting Dean’s silence, took a step closer and continued: “Don’t give up now, Dean. We _will_ find a way to beat Chuck.”

That at least made Dean look at Cas, anger rising inside of him at Castiel’s apparent refusal to be angry with Dean himself. Cas had no right to try and make him feel better, and he sure as hell had no right to make empty promises.

“And how are we gonna do that, huh? Just tell me. Because as far as I can see, Billie is not gonna help us anymore, and Chuck is even more powerful now because he _consumed_ Amara - which is my fault by the way.” Dean paused and slumped down on his bed, head in his hands. “Everything is my fault.”

“Dean.”

“No,” Dean couldn’t bear Castiel’s gentle tone. ”Don’t even try to make excuses for me. I said all those horrible things” _Jack isn’t family._ “I did things that are unforgivable.” He tried not to think about the moment he pulled a gun on his own brother. “All because I thought it would finally set me free. And all the while I was just a puppet. Chuck pulled the stings and I danced. All I ever did was following his damn script.”

Dean felt a new surge of anger. He wanted to punch something, throw stuff around, break things. Instead he felt Castiel’s hand curl around his shoulder, anchoring him back down. He hadn’t even noticed that Cas had crossed the room to stand right in front of him now.

“Dean.” His shoulder was squeezed once more before Cas took a step back to be able to look down at Dean’s face again. “Chuck manipulated all of us. This isn’t just on you. And even so, I think he has less control than you might think.”

“What’d you mean?”

“You saw how angry he was with you and Sam, because you didn’t want to play along. Chuck is irritated with your stubbornness, which to be honest is at least partly relatable.”

Despite himself Dean found himself smiling at that. If anyone knew what it was like to put up with the famous Winchester stubbornness, it had to be Cas. Dean finally allowed himself to look up again and meet Castiel’s eyes. There wasn’t as much amusement there as his tone might have suggested but there was no accusation either, just a deep seated fondness and conviction. 

“But the real reason Chuck is furious is because you are the ones he can’t control, not entirely. He can set things up, offer you certain options and nudge you into the direction he wants you to go. Ultimately, however, the choice is still your own. And you have chosen to go against Chucks plans more than once already.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that, or what to make of it in the first place. And then what came to his mind and out of his mouth was: “He seemed pretty pissed at you, too.”

“Yes.”, Cas said with a real smile on his face now. Apparently he took it as a compliment. Dean supposed that in a way, it was. 

“You think it’s true?”, he asked Cas, “That all the other Castiels followed their orders just like all the other versions of me and Sam apparently ended up killing each other?”

Cas took a moment to think about it then nodded solemnly. “Yes. I would assume it’s true.”

“What makes us so special then?” The words left Dean’s mouth before he could even think about it.

“According to Chuck this here is the first world he created; the original. If that’s the case, then it stands to reason that all the others are just recreations of this one. But maybe some things can’t be recreated.” Another fond smile tucked at Castiel’s lips. “Chuck created all these other versions of us based on his own interpretation of our ‘characters’.”

Dean could all but feel the sarcastic air quotes there even if Cas refrained from actually making them with his hands this time. 

“But,” Cas continued, “who’s to say that what he saw in us was all there was to see. Maybe even omnipresence has its limits.”

It was a cocky thing to say, and so very Cas that it raised another smile from Dean. “So what you are saying - in a really nice way - is that we’re all broken and faulty.”

“Yes,” Cas made it sound like that was a good thing. “And it’s why we’re gonna beat Chuck. Because we make our own decisions. Decisions he can’t fully understand. Maybe that’s what frustrates him so much.”

There were questions Dean wanted to ask, but couldn’t. Like what had it been that had made Cas rebel then, what it was that set him apart from all the others. Because deep down he thought he already knew the answer and he had tried his best to ignore it for years. Now, on what might very well be the last night on earth, any earth, he found it couldn’t be ignored any longer.

So when Cas turned to leave, apparently having said all he needed to say, Dean reached out his hand and curled his fingers in the fabric of Castiel’s coat. “Wait.”

Cas turned back to face him and Dean lifted himself from the bed to be at eyelevel with him, even though he didn’t let go of Castiel’s coat just yet. He just couldn’t let Cas leave. “Cas, please, stay. I need you here right now.”

Ever since finding out about Chuck, Dean had felt nothing but anger. He had questioned every choice, every feeling, because if it all came from Chuck, then it was all a lie. And whatever he and Castiel had between them it was just another plot point, meant to make Dean feel miserable. Or so Dean had thought. And then Chuck had raged about how all the other Castiels had stayed good little soldiers, all but this one.

This Castiel, HIS Cas, standing before him now, was the expectation to the rules laid out by Chuck. All these years Dean had thought he had taught Cas free will only to find out that Cas himself had been the embodiment of it all along.

“I just need something, anything, that’s real.” Dean didn’t quite know what exactly he was asking for, not until Castiel lifted his hand to gently, almost hesitantly, cup his cheek and Dean closed his eyes. He didn’t need to see to know what was going to happen. It was like he was falling, every fiber of his being bracing for the inevitable impact. When it came with the firm press of Castiel’s lips to his the world came to a halt. And within the walls of his bedroom Dean created his own universe, free from Chuck’s influence, as he kissed Cas back with everything he still had to offer.

It was thrilling, exhilarating and yet it calmed the storm that had raged in Dean for so long and he could have stood there forever, kissing Cas until the world came down around them and not cared for a second.

And so eventually it was Castiel who pulled away, if only far enough to let Dean take a breath he had forgotten he needed, and to rest his forehead against Dean’s. 

“This.” Cas whispers hoarsely. Then with more conviction: “Us. We are real.”

Cas had told him that before, and Dean fool that he was had walked away, too angry and too hurt to believe him.

“Do you believe it now?”, Cas asked like he could read Dean’s mind or at least like the words had stirred up the same memory in Cas himself.

“I do.” If they were here now, it was not because of Chuck, it was despite him. All the times Cas had died or left, all the times Dean pushed him away, and yet over and over Cas had managed to come back to him, had refused to leave or to stay dead just like he had refused to follow heavens orders. It had never gone according to Chuck’s plan and apparently Chuck had never been able to figure out why.

Dean knew why but it didn’t stop Cas from whispering it now into the space where their breaths mingled and their lips had touched moments ago. “If every other Castiel kept following orders than it was because they never fell in love with you. It has always been us.”

And there they were, the words Dean had feared for so long, because he hadn’t known what he would do with them if they ever came. They weren’t so scary anymore now, and as it turned out all Dean had to do was let them wash over him and sooth his soul. It seemed to be answer enough for Cas when Dean eventually recaptured his lips and brought his hands up to push the trench coat from Cas’ shoulders. 

Given that they still had to find a way to stop Chuck, there wasn’t time for this. But they would make time. Because Dean needed this now, needed it like the whole damn universe depended on it. Given everything he had heard today, maybe it did.

Something needed to happen now, something that had not been orchestrated by Chuck.

It would have to be them. _It has always been us_. 

It was the cosmic culmination to a story Chuck hadn’t written.

Castiel’s tongue pushed into Dean’s mouth and his hands pushed under his shirt, tracing every rib; ribs that were engraved with Castiel’s name, Dean remembered. Right from the start Cas had always left his mark on Dean, a handprint on his shoulder, a name on his ribs and something even deeper within Dean’s soul. And Dean knew he had changed Cas as well, and somehow, incredibly and inexplicable – even to God himself – they had managed to fit all their broken pieces together along the way.

When Dean took a step backwards towards the bed again, Cas followed.

Dean broke their kiss in order to pull his shirt over his head and to sit down on the mattress. When he looked up again it was to see Cas loosening his tie.

He watched almost hypnotized as the blue strip of fabric fell towards the ground eventually and Cas started unbuttoning his dress shirt. Licking his lips, Dean curled his hands around Cas’ hips, pulling him a bit closer and then popping the button of his trousers. The zipper followed and Dean pushed Castiel’s trousers down the angel’s legs as far as he could reach from his sitting position on the bed.

Before his nerves could get the better of him Dean leaned forward, pressing his face to the now naked skin of Castiel’s lower belly, nose buried in the dark swatch of hair that led downwards from Castiel’s navel and his lips teasing at the hem of his boxers. The smell of him was almost intoxicating and blindly Dean reached up to help Cas shed the shirt and jacket still clinging to his shoulders.

As soon as Cas’s hands slit free from the sleeves he brought them up to card them through Dean’s hair before cradling his neck. Slowly Dean let himself sink back, pulling Cas along as he made to fully lie down on the bed.

It took a bit of scrambling and rearranging of limbs but finally Dean could settle his head against his pillow with Cas lying on top of him, naked skin to naked skin where their chests pressed together and Dean’s still skin-clad jeans against Cas’ bare thighs. Dean felt like they should definitely remedy the latter.

Dean reached between them to open the button of his own trousers. Cas easily lifted Dean’s hip of the bed to drag his pants and boxers down in one go, freeing his already leaking dick, and yeah, Dean mused, shows of angelic strength were a definite turn on for him. Not that he had time to think much about it as Cas, having divested Dean of the last of his clothes, hooked his fingers into the waistband of his own underwear and pulled that down as well.

When Cas leaned down to press his lips to Dean’s neck and shoulders their cocks slid together and Dean dug his fingers deep into Castiel’s shoulders at the sensation. Cas was just as hard as him and they kept pressing and pushing against each other, mouths and hands slipping over naked skin. 

And then Cas made a move to turn them over, switch their positions, and before Dean could think about it, he pushed against Castiel’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

“No.”, Dean managed to say breathlessly. “Like this.” He spread his legs further, letting Castiel’s hips settle fully between them, hoping it would explain what Dean sure as hell couldn’t say with words right now.

Cas, blessedly, didn’t ask him if he was sure. Dean himself didn’t even know if he was, all he knew was that part of him had wanted it for far too long and Dean had always denied it but couldn’t now, not when it could very well be the last night on earth for real this time.

He took hold of Castiel’s hand and lifted it to his lips, swirling his tongue around Cas’ index and middle finger before sucking them into his mouth. He resisted the urge to close his eyes, if only so he could watch Castile’s above him grow impossibly darker still; the striking blue of them swallowed up by his pupils as Dean sucked and licked his fingers, covering them in as much spit as he could.

When he let go of Castiel’s wrist eventually, Cas seemed to get the message. He pulled his hand back, slipping his fingers from between Dean’s lips and reached under himself where Dean’s legs were spread around his hips. The first brush of a spit slicked finger over his hole send a shiver racing up Dean’s spine. And then Cas went and pushed in. 

It felt strange, it burned, and Dean reveled in the imperfection, the sharp realness, of it.

He wrapped his hand around the back of Castiel’s neck, pulling him down into another kiss. Cas took hold of his leg and angled it to give himself more room. He pushed his finger in deeper and left Dean moaning into their kiss.

Soon a second finger joined the first and when Castiel started scissoring them apart Dean threw his head back against the pillows in a gasp. When he blindly lifted his head back up to resume their kiss, Cas pulled away from him. Sitting up on his knees instead, mouth out of Dean’s reach but the two fingers of his one hand still inside, he curled his other hand around Dean’s dick.

Twitching and moaning, Dean gave himself over to Castiel’s tugging grip, feeling himself get fully hard again from where he had softened slightly at the initially weird sensation of being penetrated.

Soon it was too much, but at the same time it wasn’t enough.

He reached down, curling his hand around Cas’ wrist, signaling him to stop stroking Dean’s dick. Which was a shame really, but there was nothing for it; if Cas kept doing this, it would all be over in a few moments and Dean just knew he needed Cas inside of him before they got there.

Castiel’s eyes, hazy with lust, met his. “Come on, Cas. I’m ready.” At least as ready as he was ever going to be. Once again, Cas didn’t question him, letting Dean call the shots, but groaned like just the idea of going further was making it almost impossible for him to hold himself together. Dean saw him swallow and drag in a breath before finally withdrawing his fingers so would be able to replace them with his dick. 

Somehow losing Castiel’s fingers inside of him now felt almost as strange as taking them in had at first.

He watched Cas drag his finger through the smear of precome on Dean’s belly and spit in his hand for good measure before rubbing it over his dick; and Dean just knew it wouldn’t be enough but couldn’t find it in himself to truly care.

When the pain came with Castiel’s first experimental thrust inside, Dean gritted his teeth against it, the feeling of it as all-encompassing _real_ as the strange pleasure eventually following in its wake as Cas stopped and gave him time to settle. 

“Dean…”

He caught Castiel’s eyes, seeing concern mixed with the almost desperate desire. “No, don’t you dare suggest we stop now. Just get on with it.” 

Cas nodded shakily and instead spread the fingers of one hand over Dean’s hipbone, his touch a warm, soothing and strangely prickling sensation, Dean wasn’t all that unfamiliar with from the countless times Cas had healed various cuts and bruises. On the second push in it went far smoother and Cas slid deeper and Dean had to wonder if Cas had helped matters along with his remaining grace somehow. If so, Dean didn’t care. It was still all Cas, it was still all _them,_ and the world outside had fallen away completely.

Right in this moment Chuck held no power over them, no-one did. It was nothing like Chuck had planned for Dean. It certainly wasn’t what John Winchester had wanted for his son either. Here, naked and panting, with Castiel buried to the hilt inside of him, Dean truly felt free for the first time in his life; truly like himself.

When Cas wrapped his hand around Dean’s cock again, Dean knew he wasn’t gonna last. Once again he tried coaxing Cas down for another kiss and this time the angel obliged, bending over Dean to recapture his lips.

Dean lost himself in all the sensations, Castiel’s mouth, his hand, his cock, all the ways in which Cas was with him and around and inside. There was no way Dean could last. Castiel did seem just as affected, his thrusts growing more and more erratic and as a twist of Castiel’s wrist send Dean over the edge, he could feel Cas following along beside him.

-

Afterwards, Castiel shifted them so they could lie on their sides, still facing each other. They were sticky and messy and they would have to get up soon to find a way to stop the creator of the universe from destroying the whole world, but right now they could still get away with maybe an hour or two before they had to deal with all of that again.

Pulling Cas closer to him, Dean buried his face in his chest, hiding away from the outside world just a little bit longer. 

“For what it’s worth,” he mumbled, utter exhaustion dragging his eyelids down and slurring his speech. “I don’t think any of the other Deans ever fell in love with the angel that raised them from perdition.” He pressed a lazy kiss to Castiel’s collarbone. “Fools, all of them.”


End file.
